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Chapter 1:- Prologue--what happened jamaica stays there.
JUST YOU AND ME BABY
Prologue
It might have been the over indulgence of some really good ganja or excess consumption of Red Stripe beer, or my need to offer up my recent meal to the porcelain gods, but what ever it was made one thing perfectly clear. My marriage to Darrell Gaven was over before we really got out of the starting gate.
The final straw was seeing him hopped up on weed at a party feeling up another tourist who did not, in my opinion, have much to feel up. Dumb Darrell was too stoned to realize why his ever loving wife was coshing him over the head with a beach bag. Some Jamaican guy tried to break up the fight and then proceed to hit on me for his efforts.
I did what every sensible woman would do, took my return ticket and hitched a plane home after calling my folks to meet me in Vancouver.
On top of everything else, while being ill down south, I went to see the hotel nurse and described my symptoms. I had put it all down to heat, strange foods, and maybe I had swallowed ocean water. The nurse summed it all up in a nice package and said. “Do ya think ya might be pregnant mon?”
Honestly the possibility had not occurred to me.
I really didn’t want it to either. I was barely married to a man behaving like a 17 year old on spring vacation. I would welcome a baby in two or so years but now was not the right time. I tried to put the nagging suspicion out of my head for the plane ride home and concentrate on my next steps in between bouts of being ill. The flight attendants had fears that it was H1N1 or West Nile and let me sit in business class as it was empty. I read and I slept and caught half the movie.
I ignored the texts Darrell was sending me about being a sorry-assed fool. I would rather deal with the moron in person and see the look on his face as I trampled his over inflated ego. I thought he needed a tune up, just married or not but maybe ignoring him would send a louder message than giving in to him.
JUST YOU AND ME BABY
Prologue
It might have been the over indulgence of some really good ganja or excess consumption of Red Stripe beer, or my need to offer up my recent meal to the porcelain gods, but what ever it was made one thing perfectly clear. My marriage to Darrell Gaven was over before we really got out of the starting gate.
The final straw was seeing him hopped up on weed at a party feeling up another tourist who did not, in my opinion, have much to feel up. Dumb Darrell was too stoned to realize why his ever loving wife was coshing him over the head with a beach bag. Some Jamaican guy tried to break up the fight and then proceed to hit on me for his efforts.
I did what every sensible woman would do, took my return ticket and hitched a plane home after calling my folks to meet me in Vancouver.
On top of everything else, while being ill down south, I went to see the hotel nurse and described my symptoms. I had put it all down to heat, strange foods, and maybe I had swallowed ocean water. The nurse summed it all up in a nice package and said. “Do ya think ya might be pregnant mon?”
Honestly the possibility had not occurred to me.
I really didn’t want it to either. I was barely married to a man behaving like a 17 year old on spring vacation. I would welcome a baby in two or so years but now was not the right time. I tried to put the nagging suspicion out of my head for the plane ride home and concentrate on my next steps in between bouts of being ill. The flight attendants had fears that it was H1N1 or West Nile and let me sit in business class as it was empty. I read and I slept and caught half the movie.
I ignored the texts Darrell was sending me about being a sorry-assed fool. I would rather deal with the moron in person and see the look on his face as I trampled his over inflated ego. I thought he needed a tune up, just married or not but maybe ignoring him would send a louder message than giving in to him.
